


let them in before they go

by turtlebook



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Life in the bunker, Mental Health Issues, No Babies, Post-Finale, Speculation, just kabby failing to deal with their issues, no brain damage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtlebook/pseuds/turtlebook
Summary: In which Marcus isn't sorry, and Abby can't forgive him, and everything just takes time. Which, locked in a bunker together underground for years, they have plenty of to spare.





	let them in before they go

**Author's Note:**

> No sick Abby because I couldn't even deal with that mess on top of all the other angst. SHE'S FINE OK. Physically at least.
> 
> Some spoilery speculation for the situation during/following the finale, especially relating to Clarke.
> 
> The title is from the song 'Through the Eyes of a Child' by Aurora.

Abby doesn't forgive Marcus right away. But then, he doesn't expect her to, and she doesn't try. As the first days in the bunker go by, forgiveness is the last thing on anyone's mind.

After Abby wakes up to find the door sealed for good and herself inside and alive, there isn't a chance to process exactly how she feels about it. Not once she learns that the team travelling to the island never made it back, and that Clarke and Raven aren't here in the bunker with her.

But after that, in the days that follow, as routine sets in and there's nothing to do but face the reality of the situation they all find themselves in, she still doesn't forgive him.

It doesn't help that he never apologises for saving her against her express wishes. 

He says "I hope you can forgive me" and he says "I couldn't let you go". (And once, in sheer frustration, "you were first on Clarke's list, do you blame her, too?" She won't even look at him for days after that.)

The simple fact is Marcus isn't sorry. 

She knows that as long as he loves her he'll never be sorry for the choice he made. She understands that now they both just have to live with it. The problem is, she doesn't know how. 

**

There are no private sleeping quarters set up, only dozens of dormitory-style rooms to fit one and all. 

Abby and Marcus claim two lower bunks next to each other, both deciding they are far too old to be clambering up a ladder just to go to sleep. While lying down they could reach out and join hands across the space between. 

The first night after the bunker is sealed they lie down in Marcus's bunk together. With his arms around her and their legs entwined there's enough room for them both, though just barely. Neither of them sleeps much, and they don't speak at all.

However Abby feels about Marcus right now, it's not enough to deny either of them this comfort.

All he can think about is how he saved his people, and all she can think about is Clarke. 

She doesn't know if Clarke is alive. The last news from the group on the island was that they were going to attempt using the rocket to make it up to the remains of the Ark in space. It was their only option, and a hell of a long shot. But it might have worked. It could have worked.

With the radiation outside now at untold levels all communications have been cut off. 

So Abby doesn't know if her daughter is alive, and she doesn't know how she is going to spend the next five years possibly not knowing. She doesn't know how she is supposed to live with this uncertainty. 

Especially since she didn't intend to live at all. She said goodbye to Clarke and there was a small comfort to be had in the certainty of that moment. She had sent her daughter into danger before, had lost and found her so many times. This time when she said _I love you, Clarke, never forget that_ , at least she knew it was the last time. It was almost a relief. And then Marcus took that certainty away from her. 

So no, she's not about to forgive Marcus. Some rational part of her knows none of this is his fault, what she's feeling, but for now he's the only person she has to bear the burden of her anger.

She loves him, and she hates him, and she clings to him through the night while the darkness in the cramped dorm closes in on her like a tomb.

**

It's a steep learning curve for the grounders in the bunker. The people from the Ark at least know how to live like this - close quarters, strictly guarded resources, no freedom. You cooperate, and follow the rules, or...

"We're not going to float anyone," Octavia says.

Marcus sighs. "Yes, but then we're going to need prison cells. Tolerance and mediation, yes, a lot of that, but also prison cells. At least in case of violence."

"And there will be violence," Indra says. "Sooner or later. Different clans have different ideas about justice served."

"This is going to get complicated," Marcus says.

Octavia shrugs. "Doesn't have to be easy. But no one floats."

"It always starts out like this," Jaha murmurs to Abby as they stand back against the wall, not needed for this part of the meeting. "Moderation. Idealism. And then, at some point, something has to give. Those ideals fly right out the airlock."

"We all have to live together," she says. 

"Whether we like it or not," he agrees. "Good thing we still have an airlock, though, isn't it?"

She doesn't respond. She actually doesn't mind Jaha these days. He blames her still, and she finds it refreshing that he doesn't even bother hiding his resentment.

"Abby," Marcus calls her over, looking carefully for a moment between her and Jaha. "You're ready to talk to us about population control?"

**

When she woke from the knock-out gas, groggy and confused in a room full of similarly disoriented Arkadians, it took time to fathom what they had done. What Marcus had convinced Thelonius to do. 

When she finally understood - understood that look of devastation and apprehension on Marcus's face and everything that it meant as he sat beside her, hesitantly holding her hand - an incredible wave of betrayal washed over her and seemed to sweep her far away from him in that moment. 

It stays with her for a long time, the sense of separation like a vast gulf between them. She's never felt so disconnected from him since they first came crashing down to Earth, clinging to each other as the station threatened to tear itself apart around them. 

She remembers the terror of falling from the sky in a metal box, remembers the relief that he was there beside her after his aborted attempt to sacrifice himself so they would all have a chance to live. 

That man, the Marcus Kane he was then, she thinks he would have understood why she needed to give up her place in the bunker. 

(There's a part of herself that insists on acknowledging what a hypocrite she is being about this entire situation. She doesn't like that part of herself any more than the rest of her.) 

When they brought the Ark down it broke apart, jagged pieces and burning debris spread far and wide for hundreds of miles. She imagines herself like that, in fragments scattered across the surface of the Earth marking the path she has taken since coming here:

The skin of her back stretched between two posts in the yard of Arkadia. Her marrow in Mt Weather. Her soul in Becca's lab. Her heart with Clarke, always with Clarke, now missing in action. 

The thought of picking through the ruins is exhausting, and if there's even anything there worth salvaging - it's too soon to tell.

**

The unresolved issue hangs on the edge of their every interaction. She and Marcus, they sleep side by side, and they share meals, and there's a never-ending string of problems large and small that require the attention of both the Skaikru Chancellor and the head of medical.

At first he tip-toes around her, which drives her mad. But when he presses the issue it's worse. 

On the nights she gives in and crawls into the narrow bunk with him he says nothing, just holds her, and she sleeps better than she ever does alone. 

She knows they can't keep this up forever but she can't change how she feels. And she feels, more than anything, that she doesn't belong here with the 1100 people she saved. Not when the ghosts of the 364 people she condemned follow her wherever she goes, crowding everything and everyone else out.

"I can't go on like this," she whispers one night, not even sure Marcus is awake to hear.

But he is, his breath stirring her hair as he says, "You just need time. Take all the time you need."

Fortunately in the bunker, time is one thing they have plenty of to spare.

**

Sex is a problem. 

There's no privacy in the dorm rooms and the lack of personal space in general causes tension amongst everyone right from the start. But sex in particular is an ongoing problem for a lot of people, with opportunities for intimacy not easy to come by in the bunker. Of course, people are always resourceful given the right incentive. It doesn't take long for eager partners to find ways around the issue. 

Hidden corners and storage rooms and remote hallways are quickly discovered and become popular places for rendezvous. 

In the infirmary there are several rooms allocated for delicate procedures and patient isolation, and when Abby sees Jackson and Nathan Miller emerging from one a few weeks after the bunker is sealed she turns a blind eye. 

Everyone here has sacrificed their own in order to live. Everyone is grieving. 

Jackson and Miller exchange sheepish smiles, their shoulders brushing as they pass her in the corridor. Let them find what happiness they can, she thinks.

**

She tries it for herself the next night, ushering Marcus in through the door and kissing him almost before it closes behind them.

He's surprised but soon responds, sliding his arms around her and kissing her back enthusiastically and for a moment she's sure they are of one mind. All this tension between them - sex is as good an outlet for it as any. 

But as much as Marcus wants her - and the way he kisses her, touches her, pulls her so close she feels him start to harden almost immediately against her hip, she knows exactly how much he wants her - he doesn't agree.

(Of course they are not of one mind, she thinks. Of course not.)

"Wait, wait Abby," he murmurs, halting her when she starts to pull at his clothes. He holds her hands in his. "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

He touches her hair, gently cradling her head in his hands. He's being so careful with her; it's the last thing she wants.

"I'm not as fragile as you think I am. I'm fine. I just thought we could..."

"I don't think you're fragile. I'm just not sure this will fix anything."

She sighs, jaw tightening in frustration. "Then it's a good thing I don't need to be fixed any more than I needed to be saved."

"That is not what I meant." 

"Isn't it?" 

He reaches for her when she pulls away. "Abby."

She brushes him aside, turns to the door. "You're right, this was a bad idea."

"Abby, wait, please." He sounds heartbroken. She stops, her back to him. "We need to talk about this."

"I don't want to talk."

"What you're going through - let me help."

"There's nothing you can do," she says. At least she doesn't say _haven't you already done enough?_

But maybe he hears it anyway. He doesn't stop her leaving. 

**

Niylah shows up in medical one day, offering her services, and never really leaves after that. She's not the only grounder Abby ends up training as a medic over the next few years, but Niylah is the first.

Abby likes Niylah, her calm, steady presence suitable for this kind of work. Plus she already has some experience with healing so Abby doesn't have to start from scratch with her. 

She reminds Abby of Clarke for some reason she can't put her finger on - the two of them never discuss her daughter or her unknown fate. (No one tries to talk to Abby about that.) And it's not as if Niylah is very similar to Clarke - really the two girls couldn't be more different in terms of personality at least. But she finds that having Niylah around is nice all the same. 

One day she's in the middle of debriding a burn on the hand of a stoic Yujledakru woman when Abby suddenly remembers, out of nowhere, a passing comment Marcus had once made during one of their regular radio conversations.

_"The girl from the trading post is staying with us now. She spends a lot of time with Clarke, I think they're quite close."_

Abby had replied with a teasing comment about spreading gossip, but she had loved that he thought to mention it. He wanted her to know anything that might be going on with her daughter, even something as trivial as Clarke having a friend - or something more than a friend.

"Are you all right, Abby?" Niylah asks, and she looks over at the girl who's waiting to pass her another soaked swab. 

"Fine."

As they continue working, Abby begins to see what she's been missing all along, that it was Niylah who sought _her_ out. Maybe Niylah has been taking comfort from this, too. Maybe Niylah also likes being around someone who reminds her of Clarke.

She hugs Niylah at the end of the day. The tall girl is slightly surprised to be hugged, but leans over to hug back and doesn't ask for an explanation.

Jackson watches with a pleased smile, and she ends up giving him a hug, too, because she doesn't want him thinking she has a new favourite. He almost squeezes the breath out of her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says when she gasps for air.

"It's okay, I'm stronger than I look." She realises as she says it that it doesn't feel like a lie.

**

At some point she starts arguing with Marcus.

She's not sure where the urge comes from, but suddenly she can't look at him without wanting to disagree with him for no particular reason at all.

When she realises what she's doing she makes an effort to restrain herself, and spends a lot of time biting her tongue around him. But he knows her too well, and he watches her shrewdly and she swears sometimes he says or does something to deliberately provoke her.

Like when he leaves his belongings on her bunk - and he doesn't even have all that many belongings, because nobody does, but somehow he still can't keep them contained to his own admittedly small living space i.e. _his own bunk_.

"And yet everybody else manages it, Marcus, so I don't see why your spare socks need to be on my bed."

It's petty, yes, but then so is his tendency to encroach on her space as if she doesn't know exactly what he's doing.

And then he has the gall to call her childish for throwing his socks across the room. 

(Childish would have been throwing them at his head, which was her first instinct. Her second instinct in this instance is for something decidedly more adult and requires fewer socks - or any clothing at all for that matter.)

**

The second time they meet up in the isolation room it goes a little better.

They keep gravitating back to each other even though nothing has been resolved. He's hurting and she's ambivalent but they still need each other and lying in adjoining bunks by night just isn't enough.

He touches her like he's grateful and it feels like the worst thing she could possibly do to him, when it's over and she holds him, his head resting on her chest. She sifts her fingers through his hair, enjoying the quiet; glad that he hasn't tried to get her to talk. 

When it's time to get up and moving again he doesn't want to let her go.

 _He still thinks it was worth it,_ she realises. _Saving me._ And then she realises something else, that she pities him.

**

They've been in the bunker for over eight weeks before the atmospheric radiation dissipates enough to allow radio communication. 

She has spent 59 days not knowing if Clarke is alive or dead and when she finally hears that voice, crackling, distorted, but unmistakeably _her_ , Abby is suddenly and immediately crying too hard to even respond.

So Marcus does instead. He wraps an arm around her and she sags into his side, tears soaking his shirt as she listens to them speak. 

At some point she grabs his hand to bring the receiver to her mouth so she can tell Clarke she loves her.

_"The nightblood works, Mom, it saved me. I'm going to be okay."_

Clarke's voice sounds stronger, closer, all the time.

Abby tries to wipe the tears from her eyes but no matter what she does they keep falling for a long time.

**

In the dorm that night Marcus takes her hand and gives it a tug, inviting her to join him. It's the first time he has done this. He always usually waits for her to decide to cross the distance between their separate bunks herself.

Something has changed; or he thinks it has. 

She lies down with him, settling easily into his arms, their bodies adopting familiar positions that will let them sleep as comfortably as possible. He kisses her forehead, mumbles goodnight.

She can't sleep.

It would be so easy to just do this. To love him properly again, instead of in half measures and moments of weakness. She knows this is what he's waiting for, so patiently giving her whatever she needs - whether a fight or a fuck or a bunker's worth of space. But still waiting, hoping, for the time when she's ready to return to him.

If anything could spur an end to the detente between them, surely it would be hearing from Clarke, filling up that pit of terror inside her she's been circling for these endless weeks of uncertainty. 

But that's not how life works. The human psyche is not such an easy beast to appease, and her happiness over Clarke being safe doesn't magically fix everything else that is wrong. 

If anything, it's worse after that. She withdraws further than ever, closing herself off as completely as she can to Marcus and his quiet disappointment.

 _He won't wait for you forever_ , she warns herself. 

She's not sure if this is true or not, unable to measure the extent of Marcus Kane's devotion from afar. Her data set is too small to provide her with any help; she's only had two men in her life love her completely so far. 

She helped kill Jake, and he knew and forgave her for it.

Marcus saved her life and she can't forgive him for it.

The only reasonable conclusion to draw is that she never really deserved either of them, in the end.

**

"Here," Niylah says. She's holding out a mug emitting a mildly fragrant steam.

"Tea?" She hasn't had a cup of tea since the bunker was sealed. "Is this a new crop?"

"They told me there would be a farm underground to grow our food. I gathered some plants on the walk to Polis, whatever herbs I saw, I thought they might be useful. They say all the living things on the surface have burned away."

"Maybe. I hope not all. But it was smart of you to save those plants. They're growing them in the farm?"

"Those Trishanakru down there didn't want to share," she says cryptically, "but I planted some before they withered. Then they had to grow enough to harvest, and the leaves took time to dry. The first cup is for you." Niylah's shoulders lift in a simple shrug. "I thought it might help."

"What is the tea for?" she asks, though she suspects she knows already, blinking in the steam as she contemplates taking a sip. 

"Sadness," Niylah says.

**

The council established by Octavia meets semi-regularly up in the rotunda. At other times the large space is used for boisterous games, physical training, and sparring. When the council meets they bring out the 12 chairs for the clan leaders, and another of equal size for Octavia - if others want somewhere to sit they have to bring their own. The meetings are not held in private; anyone is free to attend, observe, and speak up if they have something to say.

As head of medical Abby often sits in on such meetings whether she has anything to contribute or not. Today she has quite a lot to say about the rash of petty disputes being settled lately with fists and - in a few cases - blades. She's sick of patching these idiots up, but the issue raised is not so much the idiots themselves, as that fact that the brawling is being sanctioned by the council.

"I don't have the resources to spare on injuries that might have been avoided if people put a little more effort into getting along," she says.

"Allowing people to handle interpersonal problems their own way has to be part of how we get along," Marcus says.

"Trying to kill each other defeats the purpose of surviving down here, doesn't it?"

"No one's been trying to kill each other," Octavia says. "There haven't even been any bad injuries, have there?"

"I had to stitch up someone's side this morning."

"Tryvor, yes, he's one of mine. As you say, no bad injuries," the Sankru leader says.

Abby frowns. "Tell that to his oblique muscles." 

"They know to only cut like this." He mimes slicing a sword crossways. "Not stab through. So they only bleed a little, but not too much." He shrugs dismissively.

Marcus, sitting beside the Sankru leader, nods seriously. "That seems a fair distinction." He looks across the room at Abby. "They only bleed a little," he says, and she cannot believe her ears.

"You can't possibly support this, Marcus," she says.

He sits forward in his chair. "Actually, I do, Abby."

She hasn't spoken to him directly in days, something inside her lighting up under the force of his attention. 

"I thought the idea was to discourage violence."

"People will fight, better they do it in the open," Indra says.

"Allowing tension to simmer unresolved doesn't help anyone," Marcus adds. 

She bristles at the implications. "Well I disagree. People beating each other to a pulp is -"

"Barbaric?" one of the other leaders sneers.

"Unproductive," she counters. "Unnecessary."

"Much like this discussion," Marcus says. "We're going in circles."

"Well why don't I go grab my scalpel and we can fight it out instead."

There's a snort from the Sankru leader, who leans over towards Marcus and mutters, "Healers."

Marcus's mouth twists in amusement and she glares at him for the rest of the meeting because she tends to forget how provoking the man can be when he exudes sheer arrogance as he is right now.

She realises the absurd familiarity of the situation - sitting here in a council meeting, seething over some obnoxious thing or other Marcus Kane has said - just as he lets on that he feels it, too. He looks up to meet her hard, irritated stare and the smirk on his face softens, becomes so tender she can hardly bear it.

When the meeting is over Marcus waits for her by the entrance but there are no less than five other people wanting his attention and he looks her way one more time before letting himself be drawn away.

She finds herself facing Indra instead.

By unspoken agreement they linger while most of the crowd disperses, standing aside and watching the large space gradually clear. Abby is pensive; Indra regards her in that stoically judging way of hers. 

She looks like she's about to say something that she doesn't particularly want to say. Abby is both quite certain she doesn't want to hear it, but also morbidly curious what relationship advice will sound like coming from this woman.

Because surely that's what this conversation is going to be.

If there is one person in this bunker fearless enough to address this issue that no doubt everyone here must be aware of to some extent, it's Indra.

(Raven would have, Abby thinks. Possibly John Murphy, too. It warms her to think of them relatively safe and sound, orbiting the Earth at a distance, and in no position to comment on her love life in any way.)

Finally Indra speaks. "Sometimes, you have to let people do things their own way, even if it seems foolish. And some people, they need to fight. They will fight _themselves_ if they can't fight each other - so they might as well beat each other down until they are too tired to fight any more."

"And those left to pick up the pieces?"

She shrugs. "We do what we can."

Thinly veiled relationship advice is the same no matter who it comes from. Abby sighs and decides on a subject change. "How's Gaia these days?"

Indra snorts. "Stubborn."

Abby smiles her most genuine smile in a long time. "Well, she's a teenager."

If she thought this would be a nice bonding moment, she is mistaken. 

Indra just gives her a scornful look before leaving. "Stubborn isn't just for the young."

**

When she returns to the infirmary Jackson gives her an odd look, slightly guilty, that she doesn't understand until she's heading down the corridor towards the lab at the far end and a door opens and a hand shoots out and someone drags her into the isolation room.

Her mouth opens to protest but his lips cut her off as he backs her into the door, closing it as he presses her up against it.

When he finally lets her breathe she doesn't even know what to say. She stares up at him.

"What?" he says. "Are you telling me you weren't thinking about this during the meeting?"

She gives his chest a shove and be steps back, though not far. "I'm mad at you."

"You've been mad at me for months."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine," she mutters, pulling him back in, angling her mouth back up to his.

Of course now he resists, kissing her only briefly before leaning an arm on the door over her head and playing idly with her hair. 

"Did you ever imagine us like this? When we used to argue on the Ark?" She frowns, and he shakes his head. "I know you didn't, I just..."

"Why, did you?"

"It occurred to me now and then. You were unavailable, but that doesn't mean I wasn't attracted to you."

The admission shocks her. "I can't believe you're telling me this. You've never told me this before."

"Seems like a good time. You can hardly get any more angry at me."

"You'd be surprised," she tosses back as he leans in to kiss her again.

It's difficult to hate him when he's making her come hard enough to see stars. Not that she hates him at all, but right now it's the principle of the thing.

**

He kisses her hand. It's almost more intimate than anything they just did with their clothes off, although they're fully dressed once more.

"I want to talk," he says.

"Don't ask me that."

"I just want to know how you feel."

"I feel stuck." She shrugs. "And I don't know what to do."

"That's not like you."

"Well, I'm not really myself these days."

He smiles at that. "You are, you know. More than you think."

"What does that mean?"

"Your problem isn't that you're not yourself, Abby. You've been more yourself lately than I've ever seen you. Completely stubborn, convinced you're right despite a total lack of evidence or reason, fighting with me because -"

"Because you're being an obnoxious ass most of the time. Or did you think I hadn't noticed?"

"Because you just like to fight."

"I don't like fighting with anyone."

"Refusing to admit your own flaws. Or when you're wrong."

"No, you're absolutely an ass, Marcus. I'm not wrong about that."

"My point is... You're still you, Abby. You're still in there, you still have it, everything that makes you, you. You've just stopped trusting yourself."

He whispers a kiss against her hair before leaving her alone with that to think about. 

**

The truth is she's starting to forget why she's mad at him. And she needs to be mad at him, so she'll jump on the flimsiest of reasons. 

It scares her that she might be ready to forgive him. But she can't deny what's happening to her, the way she's coming back to herself slowly but surely. It's less difficult to make herself get up in the morning. She smiles when she sees a bunch of kids playing in the corridor without even thinking about it. 

And every day that passes she finds it a little easier to look into the faces of the people around her and not think about her choice. 

_That_ person lived because she opened the door.

 _That_ person lost his partner because she opened the door.

The distinctions between them all are starting to fade. They're all alive, and they just have to live with it, just like she does.

But then there's Marcus, whose face is still the most difficult to behold. 

She opened the door for him.

It was, perhaps, the right thing to do; the people outside had just as much right to survive as the people inside. But that's not why she opened the door. She did it for _him_. Because she loved him. Because loving him made the risk seem so, so worth it.

When she feels the tangled knot of guilt and love and pain in her heart starting to ease it's because she's coming to accept that she's not really sorry at all for opening the door, and saving the man she loves. 

_Still a hypocrite, Abigail Griffin,_ the sensible voice in her head reminds her.

 _Go float yourself,_ she thinks in reply.

**

He gives her more space. She feels ambivalent about it. His persistent confidence that she will eventually get over it bothers her, but so long as he isn't pressing the issue she doesn't have to do anything either way, and that feels safe to her. 

Even doing their best to avoid each other it's not like she can miss him because it's impossible to miss anyone in the bunker.

Except that one day she realises she misses him anyway. And she finds herself questioning her choices of late - or lack of choices - while sniffling over the autoclave.

Niylah takes one look at her and goes on a tea run.

Jackson comes over and pats her back. 

She rolls her watery eyes. "Please stop that."

"This is a good thing, isn't it?"

She looks at him like he's crazy. 

He smiles. "I mean, if you're crying over him, at least you're not angry anymore." 

When Niylah comes back with the tea, Jackson nods at her. 

"If you break up with Kane for good, I'm sure Niylah will swap bunks with him. You know, to make things less awkward."

The thought of Marcus not sleeping in the next bunk over provokes a visceral negative reaction in her and she can't even choke down half her tea. She can't imagine it. Doesn't want to. She wants him there; leaving his boots in the aisle for her to trip over and walking off with her comb and letting her crawl into bed with him whenever she wants because she sleeps better that way, and so does he.

 _Are you done punishing yourself yet?_ she asks herself. Because that is what all of this comes down to, and she suspects if she had talked to Marcus at any time, openly and honestly, he would have said the same thing. She might actually be ready to hear it now, though.

**

He's helping to oversee guard training, grounders and Arkadians alike using the space to throw each other around in creative and painful-looking ways. He's surprised when she appears at his side. It could have waited, but she wanted to come to him on his turf. He's the kind of person who notices gestures like that, and hopefully in this case appreciates it.

"I'd like to talk to you. In private," she says. 

First he looks incredibly worried. Then he looks relieved. Then he looks suspicious, and finally tentatively pleased. He doesn't attempt to hide any of this; she sees it all play across his face. Considering the progression of emotion from negative to positive he must be able to read something in her, too, to inspire such confidence.

"Okay. Uh -"

"It doesn't have to be right now. You're busy."

"No, it's fine. Indra is better at this than me, anyway. She lets me assist. Grudgingly." He jogs over to make some excuse or other. Indra takes one look past his shoulder at Abby and rolls her eyes. Then she turns and starts barking commands, a clear dismissal.

She and Marcus walk side by side slowly, going nowhere in particular because there's really nowhere to go. There's no haven that is just theirs they can retreat to when they need to be alone. Any privacy they come by has to be by accident or design.

"Do you think in five years when we finally get out of here, we'll all spread out to the ends of the Earth because we'll be so sick of the sight of each other we won't ever want to see each other again?" she asks.

"We didn't, after the Ark."

"This is so much worse than the Ark." 

Even on the Ark conditions weren't this crowded. 

"You're right," he concedes, "this is worse than the Ark. But then, 5 years is a lot easier to bear than a century. Maybe it will give us just enough time to achieve perfect harmony."

"We might even get there a little earlier than that."

He looks at her, quiet hope in his eyes. 

"I discharged that potential flu case this morning. It wasn't viral, there's no infection risk." The patient actually turned out to be pregnant, not sick, which is another issue that will need to be discussed at some point. But not right now. Off Marcus's slightly confused look she clarifies: "The isolation room should be free."

"Oh."

"Not for that. I do want to talk."

"Oh."

"First. Talk first."

He smiles and they continue silently on their way down to medical.

**

"Do you know what you want, Abby?" he says.

"From you? I... think so."

"No, that's not what I asked. What do _you_ want."

She draws in a slow breath and releases it. This is not easy. It was never going to be easy. 

She begins: "When I told you what I wanted -"

"You wanted to die."

"No. I wanted someone else to live in my place."

"Two ways of saying the same thing. And now? Can you accept your place among the living? Can you accept that you belong here?"

"I know I belong with you. As for the rest - I don't know. I just have to do it. Live. I understand that, but... it's hard."

"I know. You've felt lost, Abby, but I believe you can find your way back."

She lifts her hand to his face. "I have."

"Not to me," he corrects her, though a smile is beginning to transform his serious face. "To yourself. I want to help, I will if I can, but you don't need me. You've done this all on your own."

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "No I haven't. I know people have been worried about me. They've tried to take care of me. Niylah's started making me a tea for depression."

"Are you drinking it?"

"Yes, I'm drinking it."

"Good, I hope it helps."

She sighs. "I wish you'd stop being so nice to me."

"Why?"

"Because you shouldn't be nice to people who are awful to you."

He looks at her oddly. "You don't get to tell me how to treat you."

"You can't tell me you don't wish I'd have been different all these months. I wish that."

"I wish a lot of things - I wish you weren't suffering, I wish you'd let me in, I wish... I could make you happy. But I know that's not how this works."

"I've been so angry at you." Her hands are hesitant as they brush over his beard. "You didn't deserve it, I'm sorry."

"I know you felt betrayed, that I should have respected your wishes and let someone else live in your place. I understand if you can't forgive me for that."

"No, I can - I have. You know, I'm not sure if it was ever even about you. "

He nods. "You needed to forgive yourself. It's all right to forgive yourself, Abby."

"I'm not sure if I ever will. But I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad you saved me. I think that's a start."

When she wraps her arms around him, and he wraps his around her, she lays her head on his chest and presses closer, closer, till she can hear his heart beating and there is no more space between them.

**

"I love you," he tells her some days and weeks later.

"Do you?" She's smiling.

"Yes. I love you. God, I love you. I'm sorry I haven't told you before but I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you or was expecting you to..."

His babbling trails off as she props herself up on his chest and takes his face in her hands. "Did you think I didn't know that you love me?"

"I hoped you knew," he says carefully.

"Sweetheart, you couldn't possibly have made it more clear. Especially with the way you've put up with me all this time - only a saint or a fool in love would have done that. You happen to be a charming mix of both."

"Fool, maybe. But I think I just proved I'm no saint."

She returns his steamy look with one of her own. "Well feel free to drive that particular point home any time you want."

It feels so good to laugh with him, happiness bubbling up within her at the sight of his adoring smile.

He strokes her hair back from her face, turning serious again. "I really do love you. I'm so glad I have the chance to tell you."

"I never doubted your feelings, Marcus, I just didn't feel like I could possibly deserve it. Any of it."

"And now?"

"Now..." 

She gives the question the weight it deserves, turning her eyes inward and assessing the damage the past few months of her life have wrought.

Things aren't perfect and may never be. She still has dark days when her instinct is to push him away and indulge her dark thoughts alone. But he is always there for her when she's ready to emerge into the light. And what's more important is that she trusts him to be there waiting. Right where she wants him to be.

She takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers. "I'm going to be okay."


End file.
